From my vantage point, I can see part of Seraphina’s face in the mirror and a hint of the satin crossing over one breast. She’s staring at her reflection as if she’s never seen herself like this. There’s a hint of wonder, a shy smile as she turns this way and that.
The ache in my chest grows, a desire to peel back the layers of Seraphina Clark and find out…everything. It may not be as satisfying as sex, but if it’s the only thing I can have without crossing the line, I’ll take it.
“Stunning.”
She immediately stiffens. Our eyes meet in the mirror before she turns around.
“How long have you been standing there?”
I would answer, but I can’t, not with my tongue in my throat after I just swallowed it. The satin swaths crisscross just below her neck and cover her breasts. But then there’s nothing except black lace in the middle. Lace woven thin enough I can see the swells of her breasts.
“Long enough.”
I drag my gaze back up to her face. The wariness on her face doesn’t fully hide her awareness of me. The faint glossing of her eyes, another blush creeping up her neck as her breathing quickens.
I enjoy every single second as I walk closer.
“It’s just missing one thing.”
She frowns and glances down. “What?”
I pull the box out of my pocket and hold it out. “This.”
I close the last steps between us and hold it up. She watches every move I make. Her eyes are the only thing moving as she watches me open the box.
Her gasp makes me smile.
“Oh my God.” She stares at the ring before wrenching her gaze up. “Mr. Hawke—”
“Aiden.”
She wrinkles her nose. “Aiden, I can’t accept that.”
Irritation creeps in. “Would it help if I told you it wasn’t the most expensive ring in the store?”
There. The tiniest quirk of her lips.
“Perhaps. Still, it’s…”
“It’s what?”
She arches one brow with that never-before-seen sass I’m coming to enjoy so much.
“It was more than a thousand dollars.”
“True. But it reminded me of your eyes.”
Damn. I didn’t mean to let that slip. But as her eyes soften and she looks at me with warmth instead of the distaste she did earlier this morning, I don’t regret it.
I pull the ring out of the box and grasp her hand, relish her sharp inhale. Almost as much as I enjoy the feel of her hand in mine. It’s been three years since I held her hand when we shook hands at the end of her interview. There’s been the occasional brush of fingers when she handed over a report, shoulders nudging when we stood in an elevator or crowded conference room.
But holding her hand like this isn’t just sexy as hell. The intimacy of our palms stressed together sends a shockwave through me.
I slide the ring on her finger. The sight of that emerald winking up at me from her hand, a ring I picked out to mark her as mine to the world, deepens my craving for her. She’s not mine. Never will be. But I’m going to thoroughly enjoy pretending she is for the next ten months.
Seraphina holds her hand up and takes a closer look at the ring.
“It’s breathtaking. Thank you.”
